


Like A Transposition Of Air

by bloodfever



Series: Ephemeral [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodfever/pseuds/bloodfever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all stopped.  Except for time, time insists on marching forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Transposition Of Air

She was five weeks old when he died, and something inside of Combeferre went cold.

Looking back on it, Combeferre could trace the pattern of slightly odd occurrences pretty much to the day. He hadn’t realised at the time, delirious with sleep deprivation and with grief, and endless stream of people through their, no his house. He would be looking for something and it would suddenly be right near his hand. Lights would occasionally turn on and off without Combeferre needing to flick the switches. He would feel something which almost seemed solid next to him in bed. The most striking thing though was the laughter.

Juliette was a remarkably happy baby, 'just like her own baby had been,' Courfeyrac’s mother had told Combeferre, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. She could also summon the sun with a smile. She was bright, and enamoured with everything, and the sound of her tiny bubbling laughter frequently filled the house.

The thing about that, though, is that is was often hard to tell exactly what she was laughing at. Combeferre started paying quite close attention, watching for certain developmental milestones and the usual red flags, and realising that Juliette seemed to be laughing at something he himself could not see. She would be grinning at what appeared to Combeferre to be the wall. Play something which might have been patty-cake with thin air. Shriek with joy and squirm as if being tickled for no apparent reason.

For awhile Combeferre was comforted by the possibility, however unlikely, of Courfeyrac’s presence. For awhile. Then it began to feel like being an inch away from him constantly and not actually be able to touch him, or hear him, or see him. Combeferre put away the photographs, and shut the doors in his mind. Juliette laughed on.

There were other men, eventually. When Combeferre woke one day to realise he was desperately lonely he reached out to Enjolras, and was welcomed back into the Amis fold. He unfurled a little, uncovered his heart a little, and entertained the idea of finding love again - at least a little. There were other doctors, the science columnist Enjolras worked with, a couple of nice young men met at one bar or other, but nothing worked out. Nothing could come close to what Combeferre had with Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac wasn’t allowing himself to be forgotten. After the third date in a row had ended with a dramatic light display and an awkward “see you around, maybe,” Combeferre had gone to bed, furious and despairing, whispering “please let me go” into his pillow, as he curled up into the foetal position and cried.

It all stopped. Except for time, time insists on marching forward.

Juliette was grown, lovely, still able to summon the sun, and had summoned a very kind young man right along with it. Combeferre held her hands at the door of the church, telling her how proud he was and remarking how much she looked like her father, when Juliette looked over Combeferre’s shoulder and began to laugh.

Combeferre felt something curl around him, and he surrendered to it. Warmth at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetad. Obviously. I should maybe look into that like, yesterday.
> 
> ( I'm prometheusatthebarricade on tumblr, come say hi :D. Or come hit me with sticks, after that. )


End file.
